Friday, October 24, 2008

Not in the “Oh I’m so glad we’re home!” way, but more in the “Do I really have to start work again?” way. I’ve spent all morning going through my 157 new emails, tagging things and trying to figure out what’s been done on each. As if being on vacation weren’t exhausting enough in itself, I returned to have to figure out what happened while I was gone.

So, here I suppose I must give the ubiquitous wedding update. Although, at this point, I am still happy to do so. I haven’t had much of chance to talk about it yet.

The wedding. Was. Perfect. It was everything I wanted it to be. All the people I love were there. And I cried. I – the woman who hardly ever sheds a tear in happiness – was practically ready to bawl as I walked down the aisle. I was glad to know that there was indeed a heart in my hollow tin chest.

The day began much too early, as evidenced by my post on the morning of. However, thanks to mimosas, my mother’s breakfast casserole, the antics of my bridesmaids and two very talented ladies who styled me, it was a very pleasant morning. I was shell-shocked for most of the day, eyes wide and feeling overwhelmed by everything happening. By 12:00, I had holed myself up in the bridal suite sunroom (did I mention how wonderful the location was?), and wrote a final note to my love before we married while I looked out on the Tulsa skyline and the Arkansas River. Moments later, Greg’s gift to me – a journal very similar to the one I was about to give to him – arrived in my room.

In a whirlwind, I was dressed, bedazzled, and whisked this way and that for pictures of varying importance. My niece, the 18-month old flower girl, was terrified of my huge white dress. My 7-year old nephew thought I was more beautiful than anyone, and kept clicking away pictures on his disposable camera.

By 2:55, I stood with my father waiting for our cue to walk down the aisle. Several people reminded me to breathe in those last five minutes, and I did – all the while making sure my knees were unlocked. My dad watched the processional and gave a running commentary – “Okay, here are the bridesmaids. Okay, here comes Greg’s mom.”

“Greg’s mom? What is she doing coming down after the bridesmaids?!” I panicked, then heard the mantra in my head – Breathe. It’s okay. It’ll be fine.

“Here comes your niece with the flowers,” my dad continued. “Okay, good, she’s throwing them down. Well, kind of hard, but at least she’s throwing them… Okay, now she’s picking them back up. Boy, my grandson is having a hard time pulling her down the aisle…”

Then, a moment later, I heard the swell of music that would begin my processional song. I had my father wait for just a moment, so the exact moment I stepped out onto the balcony to descend the stairs to the ceremony, the lyrics to the song began.

“At last… my love has come along….”

I looked down to my right, where Greg was standing. Instant tears. And his smile could have powered an entire city for a year. Or two.

From there, the wedding became a blur. I made it down the stairs without falling – a real victory for me in a dress the size of several small countries. The judge mixed up the order of the ceremony, but I ceased to care what happened when I was standing there, in front of Greg, hold his hand and knowing that soon our lives would really be joined forever.

He smiled through the entire thing.

I danced down the aisle.

My niece ran away from me on several occasions, still terrified of my big dress.

I successfully surprised Greg with his groom’s cake. We finished everything in under 3 hours, and zipped off in my dad’s fire-red jeep. That night, we met everyone at an Irish pub for some Guinness and good times, and I wore my dress there, too. I think it developed its own gravity at some point, because people surrounded me in orbit on various occasions. I let my dress drag on the barroom floor, and I loved looking at it when I returned, black and smudged, because it reminded me that the reason you keep it so pristine before the wedding, is so you can dirty it up as much as you want that day.

It was all over before I had much time to realize it began, but I did everything I could do to remember the way my father looked at me while we danced. To remember the way Greg held me during our first kiss. To laugh at the way my friend offered up her pashmina for me to lay in my lap while I ate voraciously in an abandoned corner of the food room. To cherish the way my niece finally hugged me like she knew me, and placed a tiny little kiss on my cheek. To smell the way the fall lingered on the horizon, but waited in the wings while we enjoyed perfect 75-degree weather at my outdoor wedding.

All-in-all, it was perfect. Exactly what I wanted. Too fast without enough time to sit down with every guest and let them know how perfect it was that they were there.

1 comment:

That is the sweetest tale ever! Very well put. I could very easily reflect the images in my head from that day as well. I'm so glad that I could be there and be a part of your special day! I love you and I am so happy for you and Greg!